HYDE PARK 
33 
scourge, but the men were not accustomed to the 
rough quarters, and soon succumbed. 
“ Our men (ere long) began to droop and quail, 
Our lodgings cold, and some not us’d thereto, 
Fell sick, and dy’d, and made us more adoe. 
At length the Plague amongst us ’gan to spread, 
When ev’ry morning some were found stark dead ; 
Down to another field the sick we t’ane, 
But few went down that e’er came up again.” 
Thus all through the autumn of that terrible year 
the Park was one of the fields of battle against the 
relentless foe. The contemporary poet, whose lines 
have been quoted, describes the return of the few 
saddened survivors to the “ doleful ” city. They had 
lingered through the cold and wet until December, and 
surely the Park has no passage in its history more 
piteous and depressing than the advent of those 
frightened men who came with “ heavy hearts,” “ fear¬ 
ing the Almighty’s arrows,” only to be overtaken by the 
terror in their plague-stricken camp. 
Hyde Park has witnessed other gloomy pictures from 
time to time. Although the colouring of fashion and 
romance has endeavoured to make these incidents less 
repulsive, duels cannot be otherwise than distressing to 
the modern sense. For generations Hyde Park was a 
favourite place in which to settle affairs of honour. 
The usual spot is described by Fielding in “Amelia.” 
The combatants walked up Constitution Hill and into 
Hyde Park “ to that place which may properly be called 
the Field of Blood, being that part a little to the left of 
the Ring, which Heroes have chosen for the scene of their 
exit out of this World.” One of the most famous duels 
was that fought between Lord Mohun and the Duke of 
c 
